Tooting my own... Kazoo!

I just finished my standardized patient session for ICM II. Basically, I had a few basic stats on a patient and in 20 minutes I had to interview them and perform a focused physical. It was kind of nerve wracking for me-- I haven't practiced my physical exam skills or interview techniques in a while and I'm a bit scared of people, but it ended up going great. Oh, of course I missed tons of questions and wasn't the best physical examiner in the world but... My 2 SP's said that my interviewing was excellent. I was called warm, was told I have a great smile, and was told, "Your patients are going to love you!" Yey, Xavi!!!
It means a lot to me because I might struggle through basic sciences, I might be a physics dummy, but I am determined to be a good clinician. It's what drives me. I love the patients. I love hearing their stories and their lives (even if they are scripted) and I am glad that that is getting across to them. I figure at the end of the day, I myself would prefer a friendly doctor than one who scored the highest in his/her exams. That's just me. So I am especially happy today-- I have things to work on, but I was told to keep my warmth.

On another note, Sarah and I were joking about how to encourage people to leave comments on our blogs, which we love reading, we should post discussion questions-- so here you go:
1. Exactly what makes a good doctor?
2. Is it ok to toot my kazoo, or should I work on my humility?
3. If Xavi blogs, and nobody reads it, did she really blog?
4. If Sarah and Xavi blog, is it really all just one big blog since they live together?
5. What might be some possible reasons that Ananda, the bunny, chooses not to blog?

Alright, that's enough for now. You may answer one, none, or all of these questions. Answers written in binary will be credited (though not understood). Extra credit for answers written in Spanish.
Ok, back to school life.

Scar Tissue

Sometimes I forget who I am. Especially lately. Since starting medical school little pieces of me have fallen into cracks or been hidden away in the back of a drawer until I became-- a medical student, a girlfriend, a halfway decent family member, and friend who was more absent than not. These past few weeks I've been missing those other lost pieces of me. I keep thinking that if I can put them all together, I can somehow find my smile again... and feel a little stronger. I keep thinking that if I put myself together again into the person I once was, I can be more lovable again (because the child in me still sometimes says that maybe if I had just been more lovable...)
Anyhow, regardless of the purpose, it's kind of comforting to look at myself again and think about who I've been, what I haven't given myself credit for, and the talents I've forgotten I had. As Sarah reminded me this past Sunday (when I wouldn't claim one of the apples being given out to the teachers in church) I am a teacher-- I taught English to a group of wonderful students, I taught the teachers who now teach my 48 children, I taught pre-meds who were ansiously preparing for their MCATs. I'm also an artist, a sister, a daughter, a grandaughter, a sort-of mother of 48 beautiful Bangladeshi children, a mentor, a medical student (still, yes), a writer, and hopefully more.

So a long intro to say, I've been getting reacquainted with writing again. Here you go:

9-16-07

I find pieces of myself
scattered,
around the bed, in long hallways,
on the rim of a beer glass perhaps.
In the places you've recently left
the me pieces that flaked off your skin now carpet wooden floors.
9 a.m. me, stretching and rolling over,
laid half-forgotten under the bed.
Mischievous smile me
was still wrapped up in your sleeping bag.
Pumpkin pie baking me got
crusted onto a dirty pie pan.
I find pieces of myself and I
sew them--
interweave them like collagen.
Scar tissue to keep me from falling apart.

No hay mal que dure cien años, ni cuerpo que lo resista

The hard part about having classmates in your same class is that you feel selfish asking them to cater to your distraction. I am recently going through a break-up, greatly timed to go with the beginning of classes, and my attention span is roughly about the same as that of Soso (golden retriever who outshines me in pictures). So as I try to read about calcium and find that I've read the same sentence 5 times, I realize that I have to give up for awhile, but I have no one to give up with me. My East Coasters are 3 hours ahead, meaning that at the hardest times (at night, usually after 8 p.m.) they are in bed, and my roomates are getting through what I should also be getting through. So the start of the year feels lonesome. And frustrating. And confusing...
I do have one thing to look forward to though-- a visit from my best friend on my birthday.